The Agony beneath his Armour
by GlasgowGirl92
Summary: You cannot be strong all the time, even from behind the well constructed armour used to face the world. We all need a moment of comfort, and the Duke of Suffolk is no different. Charles Brandon x Original Character. See inside for more.


**A/N:** Hello there! I'm new to publishing fanfiction, so bare with me as I do not have a beta or a proof-reader, therefore my mistakes are all my own. I love reviews, so please feel free to leave them! You do not have to have an account to leave one either.

This is a One-Shot, between the Duke of Suffolk and an OC. I'm in the middle of a Tudor's rewatch and just recently returned from Ireland and I can't get this idea out of my head. This piece wouldn't fit into the larger story I'm writing but it wouldn't leave me alone either, so I had to write it out in order for me to be able to continue with the others.

**A/N2:** Catherine Willoboughy/Brooke and Charles Brandon were never married, nor was she his ward as it is in the show.

**Warnings**: There are slight spoilers for the show...but not for history, if you know it that is.

Enjoy!

x

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The Agony under his Armour.

It was well into the night when she heard him entering their chambers. The dull thud of his boots against the wooden floors. The noise stopped abruptly and she smiled, he'd noticed she was already in her bed, although she had left candles burning for his return and sought not to wake her. Her Charles was like that, thoughtful, kind and considerate. He had been to hell and back, yet he still took time to be gentle with her, considerate towards her wants, her needs and her feelings unlike most of the other men were towards their wives. Molly had always considered herself to be incredibly lucky when it came to having found herself someone like Charles Brandon.

There were quiet murmurings, Charles deceptively soft voice talking to one of the servants. She couldn't work out exactly what it was that he was saying, but his voice had always been a source of comfort to her. Moments passed in silence before she felt the bed dip, his body sliding between the sheets with hers, his hand reaching for her and pulling her against his solid frame, burying his face against her hair. At his weary sigh, Molly froze slightly before linking her fingers with his against her stomach. He froze, then, before pulling her even closer. She smiled and wriggled turning around to him, and nuzzled his chest, wrinkling her nose at his chest her, waiting for the silly remark that always came. But not this time. His fingers merely threaded through her hair and held her against him. She slipped her arm around his waist, her fingers gently stroking his back.

Moments passed that way, just holding each other before Molly tipped her head back, "Husband?" she asked quietly, barely making out his unseeing as as they stared off against the wall. "Charles?" she asked again, pulling back slightly from him, cupping his jaw and bringing his eyes to hers. She saw the shadows there in their brilliant blue depths, before he closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers.

"I'm sorry, darling." he sighed, before kissing her softly, offering her a small smile when he pulled back. He opened his mouth to say something else before Molly stopped him and pressed her finger against his lips.

"I am well aware, Charles, that you are a very private man and do not wish to discuss matters of your heart and soul with anyone, however, I am your wife and you really should not be lying to me." her Irish accent seemed harsher in the quiet of their chambers and she offered him a smile to soften her words. Her reward was instantaneous, the smile that lit his face and chased away the shadows in his eyes as he shook his head and huffed out a laugh.

"My Lionheart." he stated, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. "I missed you, is all." he told her, leaning more into her touch. Molly raised an eyebrow, his final warning before she demanded the truth from him. It was then those shadows returned and her Charles looked older than his years, worn down and bone weary. "I was with the king." he whispered eventually, adjusting his hold on her as he rolled onto his back, fingers running through the fiery strands of her hair. "He is incredibly unwell, his leg..."

Molly ran her hand back and forth over Charles' chest. She knew he was worried about his friend and King, but this went deeper than that. Nevertheless, he was unburdening his heart to her and she knew better than to ask for more than that. She also knew better than to judge his decisions as harshly as she had done in the past.

"He was talking about the rebellion." his voice was so quiet molly was unsure whether or not he had said the words or it had been in her head. "He congratulated me, Molly. He talked in detail of my actions."

Molly felt her eyes fill with tears at the way his voice shook on the words. Charles had never forgiven himself for the thousands of executions he commissioned during the uprisings, for the betrayal of those who had headed it. His actions had taken a toll on him at the time and also on their relationship. She had returned to her parents residence with Edward and Jane for an extended stay, telling no-one the reason she was truly there. Molly had not realised until now that this pain and lack of self-forgiveness was still baring so heavily on her love's shoulders.

"All of those people-" when Charles' voice broke, Molly raised her head, moving to hold him to her, cradling his head to her, whispering soothing words against his hair, hushing him. Comforting him. As she had done once before when he had come to visit her at her parents. Molly knew he could have commanded her to come home, demanded that she returned to Suffolk where she now belonged. He was well within his rights to punish her for running, for leaving him, but he never had. He had simply dropped to his knees in front of her when they were alone and begged for her forgiveness, not demanded hers. He had always been so generous towards her, always thinking of what she wanted and needed and he knew then that she had needed space. What puzzled Molly was that she was, save for his children, the only one to see the gracious, merciful and loving side of the Duke. The court had him pinned as a rogue and someone incapable of fidelity, but aside from one time relatively close to the start of their relationship, Charles had remained true to her and only her; Taking care of her and loving her more than many of the other men at court had toward their wives. More than the King himself towards any of his queens. Charles had never been forceful nor heavy handed and Molly smiled against his head as she remembered his tenderness towards her.

"Charles." she whispered, kissing his hair. "You have repented for your actions with all of your heart, I am sure that God will forgive you as readily as I have and those you have sinned against have." she leaned back, her green eyes meeting his blue, the pain that shone in them broke her heart; her strong and unshakable man was in agony beneath his armour that he always wore to face the world. "You need to forgive yourself, my love, you were duty bound to your King and Sovereign Lord, refusal would have meant death, no doubt. You did what was asked of you, even though you are now living in eternal hell for what you have done. I do not love you any less, Charles. Neither do your children. For I would rather you were with me, here, no matter how selfish it makes me." leaning in she kissed him softly, wiping his tears.

"Thank you." his voice was hoarse as he cupped her cheek, one hand finding her hair again as he gazed up at her. "Sometimes, I feel like I would not have made it through those days without knowing that I was able to return home to you, to our children."

Molly smiled and moved to rest her head against his chest, arranging the thick blankets to ensure he would be warm enough. "We're always with you, Charles. Even when you're about the king's business and we remain in Suffolk or here, in London." placing a kiss right above where she supposed his heart was, Molly rested her head again, humming an old Irish tune that her mother often used when she wished for Molly and her brother and sister to sleep. It was unsure who fell asleep first, but Molly tried to hold sleep away until she felt his breathing even out, signalling that she had managed to sooth him enough that her soldier, her husband and protector could claim a few hours rest before the weight of a country was placed on his shoulders once more by a man who always asked for everything and gave very little back in return.


End file.
